


When It's Not

by earth_dragon



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Cockles, First Kiss, JIB2014, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 22:56:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1835278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earth_dragon/pseuds/earth_dragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s all fake. Everything here is fake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When It's Not

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mishnjay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishnjay/gifts).



> There is, of course, some debate over whether or not the Fake Cockles Kiss at JIB2014 was, in fact, fake. I just decided to write a little story about it, is all. A great picture can be seen [here](http://mishnjay.tumblr.com/post/88799345920/mishjen-poorbeautifuldean-replied-to-your). For Mishanjay since I took inspiration from her picture.

It’s a fake kiss.

 

They’re reading a script, and the audience is going nuts. Misha’s hand is over his mouth. The lights are so hot and sweat is pouring down his face and his back. It’s all fake. Everything here is fake.

 

It’s all about the laughter from the crowd, and he does love that. Jensen loves the way the noise bursts up and then drowns out the voices in his own head. He’s never been as good at controlling a crowd as Misha is, but he’s still passable at it. It makes him nervous, but he does enjoy the feeling of anonymity. It’s like acting and he can hide in it.

 

It’s all fake.

 

Except that Misha’s hand between them is sliding down just the tiniest bit. It shouldn’t be noticeable but it is. This is all happening so fast, and somewhere in Jensen’s mind he’s aware of that, but right now it is only them. That’s the beauty and the curse of anonymity. He knows better than to chase this but he’s going to do it anyway because he can just write it off as going with the flow, looking for the laugh.

 

Jensen pushes harder, leans further in, and both Misha’s hand and his shoulder drop. There are only fingers and an entire auditorium of people between them now, and Jensen can feel Misha’s chapped lips just teasing against his between the spaces of Misha’s clinging fingertips.

 

Jensen kisses the pads of Misha’s fingers, touching his tongue gently to the prints etched there as if in effort to never forget them, to imprint them on his own flesh. Distantly, under the roar of the crowd, Jensen hears Misha gasp. There is an urgency, an edge to this now. The back of Jensen’s hand is pressed up against Misha’s chest and he can feel Misha’s heartbeat thrumming against his skin through the layers of everything — through his clothing, through the noise and the crowd, through the anonymity and the acting, through all the bullshit and the mess and even though they are totally surrounded and time is flying by it is just them.

 

It is just them.

 

And it’s all fake, all of it — except for when it’s not.

 

And the laughter from the crowd seems dull in comparison to a bright, blue-eyed grin.


End file.
